>>5788239The detective stares at you with hawk’s eyes.
“Not when I’m on the clock, I’m not, <span class="mu-i">boy</span>.” He snaps as he steeples his fingers. “You will refer to me as <span class="mu-s">DETECTIVE MCKAY</span>.”
You don’t respond. You know better than to go back and forth with him. Jotting something down in his notebook, the detective raises an eyebrow at you expectantly.
“So,” he begins in a stern, unimpressed tone, “You’re a <span class="mu-i">hero</span> again.”
He’s fishing again. You don’t bite.
“Every single person I’ve interviewed. Every god <span class="mu-i">damn</span> one,” he continues, “Can’t stop talking about how <span class="mu-s">DIESEL CRASH</span> saved the day… how he stepped up and beat the bad guy when no one else did.”
Leaning across the table with his eyes locked with yours, the detective’s scrutinizing stare doesn’t falter in the least.
“Exactly what part of ‘<span class="mu-i">don’t make waves</span>’ did you not understand?”
You didn’t have a choice, you counter as you struggle to keep your temper in check, you-
“Save it–I heard everything already from your little gal pal.” Scoffs the detective as he taps a finger on his notebook. “Had to listen to her <span class="mu-s">SNOOPS MCCALLISTER</span> parlor scene bullshit for ten minutes straight… and guess who her little Junior Detective was?”
“You oughta’ see the file on her too!” Laughs Mack as he leans on the wall next to you! “Red’s got a rap sheet bigger than me! You know how to pick ‘em, kid!”
If they know everything already, you retort, then what’s the point of this crap anyways, huh? You know it’s not to ‘<span class="mu-i">catch up</span>’...
Detective McKay leans back in his chair. “You’re right–it ain’t. It’s a warning.”
Placing his pen back into his jacket pocket, the cop stares daggers at you. “You’re already on thin-fucking-ice, boy. Your mother and I hoped her greaseball brother would keep you in line, but apparently he isn’t working you hard enough.”
Don’t talk shit about Uncle Emi-
“I’ll keep it simple: You will <span class="mu-i">not</span> pull any more stunts that lead back to me.” The black-haired man interrupts. “And you’re gonna stay far away from this Hornsby bitch. Pump and dump ‘er, break it off, fake your goddamn death, I don’t give a shit–she’s a bad-fucking-influence and she’s gonna land you both in deep shit.”
“Juvenile Hall, bud.” Adds Mack with a smirk!
You’re <span class="mu-i">eighteen</span> now, you hiss through clenched teeth.
“Happy-fucking-birthday.” Snarls Detective McKay with a hint of surprise in his tone, “Even better, then: keep getting into trouble with her and you’ll be sending love letters to each other across the prison yard.”
Crossing his arms across his chest, the detective narrows his eyes at you again.
“Lay. The fuck. LOW. Do I make myself clear?”
What say you?
>YES. DON’T POKE THE BEAR.>NO. HE DOESN’T CONTROL YOU.>STAY SILENT. ASSHOLE.>WRITE-IN! 